Fallout Equestria: The Sickness Within

Chapter 11: Remembrance Chapter (Past)

*****

The gray buck stumbled, his hooves catching on the rocky earth beneath him.

It was hazy. Blurry. Even the dim light of the cloud covered Equestrian skies seemed to hurt its eyes.

Where was he, again? He couldn’t remember.

He glanced down at his hooves. Dried red liquid caked his mangy fur.

Was it his red? Somepony else’s red?

Vague memories of shadowed figures screaming and running flitted through the buck’s mind. An uneasy, nervous laughter left his lips, the pit of distress in his stomach growing deeper.

Where was he, again? He couldn’t remember.

Stumbling over a petrified branch, the buck stumbled again, a faint shifting against his flank drawing his eyes to his side.

Stuffed haphazardly into the pocket of his barding, he could see a small, fuzzy, bear shaped head and arms protruding out into the open, a single button eye staring back in his direction.

The buck’s eyes lit up.

It was the bear! He remembered the bear!

Grabbing the stuffed animal up in his muzzle, he dropped onto his stomach, nuzzling it.

“...Bear Bear, Bear Bear…”

A happy giggle left the buck’s lips. The toy’s familiar scent was calming. It smelled like home.

Home?

The buck glanced up, his eyes widening again.

He swept his gaze over the wastes beside him. Ruined houses, rusted carts, and small stands of burnt trees dotting the gray landscape stared back at him.

Where was he, again? He couldn’t remember.

Glancing around nervously, the buck stuffed the teddy bear back into his pocket.

He had to keep looking. For...something. Someplace. Somewhere.

His eyes surveyed the empty wastes, the nervous laughter resuming.

Where was he, again? He couldn’t remember.

***

A dream.

Images and sounds flashed through his mind. Shouting. Yelling. Feelings of fear and panic rising in his chest.

Where was he? Who were they?

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

Kill it. Chase it. Feed.

More voices. The sound of rain. Thunder.

A mare. Light blue. A white flower on her side. A dull look in her half lidded eyes.

How could they? How could they?

Tear. Rip. Rend.

Muzzle flashes. Impacts. Screams. Roars. Gurgles.

The sight of red. The taste of iron. Pain.

Darkness.

***

The buck’s ears perked up from amidst his slumber. The smell of rust filled his senses, flakes of peeling metal from the wagon frame he'd taken shelter in the night before digging into his hide.

He could hear noises coming from behind the nearby hill.

Voices. Multiple. Talking.

Ponies.

The buck’s muscles tensed, a prickle running down the back of his spine. His eyes darted toward the source of the voices, hooves scrabbling to find purchase on the musty seat cushion beneath him.

Further up the broken highway—beyond the husk of a burnt out bus—the buck could make out three figures growing closer. Ponies. Two males—a dark blue earth pony and an off-white unicorn—a red unicorn mare walking between them.

The three were dressed in dirty leather barding, streaks of dust and grime across their faces and coats. The stallion on the right—darker blue with an eyepatch and greasy black mane—seemed to be the one leading the group, a large black holster hanging off the side of his belt.

The other two—the off-white unicorn with the shaved mane and the red mare with a ratty green mop—followed slightly behind. The mare appeared to be wearing two leather bands attached to pointed blades on either hoof, the white stallion sporting a red tank on his back, a long, articulated hose attachment hanging off from one side.

The buck’s eyes trailed over the three sets of weapons. His eyes narrowed, a low growl growing in the back of his throat. He could feel his neck begin to bristle.

Ponies. Closer. Sneak. Kill.

His growl grew louder, hooves digging into the seat beneath him. He could feel the changes starting. The anxious twinge in his stomach. The simmering, boiling rage threatening to surge forward once again.

The buck ducked beneath the frame of the window, legs coiling beneath him. Waiting. Listening for the sounds of conversation. Hoof-falls. Breath. Laughter.

Laughter?

The buck blinked—the growing red haze before him suddenly fading—the release of tension in his muscles catching him off guard.

What was...why were they...?

The buck blinked again. Faded images flitted across his mind. Laughter. Cheers. A blue mare. Colorful floating spheres attached to strings. Candles. Warmth.

What was...why was he...?

The buck tensed as three shadows passed across the window next to him. Their voices were bright. Energetic. He could hear a gruff male voice bark a few words in imitation of somepony, the sounds of laughter rising up once again at his side.

Pounce. Attack. Tear. Feed.

The buck shook his head, confusion gripping him as the burning in his chest and the memories playing through his mind vied for control over the rest of his body.

Smiling ponies. Laughing ponies. Attack them. Kill them.

The buck buried his head into the cushion beneath him.

He didn’t understand. Who were these ponies? Why was he attacking them, again?

Kill, Happy. Kill.

The buck buried his face in the seat beneath him, panting as he twisted his head back and forth. He could feel a sharp pain along the side of his face as a rusted coil pierced through the weathered leather, drawing a long gash across his forehead and eyelid.

No. No. The voice. The images. What was going on? He didn’t understand.

Another voice—a mare’s voice—broke across the buck’s mind, the jumble of sounds and images around him suddenly dimming.

“Smile, Happy.”

The buck blinked, staring forward intently as blood began to drip into his left eye.

Smile.

The buck blinked again, the blood now beginning to drip onto the seat below.

Smile.

Slowly, the buck pulled his lips back, baring his teeth to the empty space around him. The expression felt foreign, the muscles in his face tensing with the effort.

Smile.

The buck could feel his shoulders start to relax, his senses returning back to him one by one. The heat in his chest had cooled—the anxiousness in his frame slowly morphing into curiosity.

The buck ran a hoof across his lips.

There was something odd about this expression. His hooves suddenly felt lighter. His tense frame, looser. A burblines had begun to rise up in his chest that wasn’t angry or hungry but...giddy. Chirpy.

Happy.

“Heh...heh heh...heh…”

The buck rose to his hooves, glancing out the back window of the rusted wagon. He could still see the three ponies trotting along, their hooves tapping against the broken pavement beneath them.

A flash of excitement lit the buck’s eyes.

The laughter-ponies were still there. He could see expressions on their faces like his—smiles—the three of them chatting idly as they continued on.

The buck’s legs twitched, curiosity and excitement mixing in his chest.

Follow.

The buck rose to his hooves. The urge wasn’t coming from the voice, but his own mind. His own thoughts.

Follow.

The buck nodded to himself, letting out another awkward chuckle.

He wasn’t sure what this sensation was, but he wasn’t about to let it pass him by.

***

“Heh...heh heh...heh…”

The buck giggled to himself, his cheeks tired from holding his grin for so long.

He’d been tailing the three ponies for the better part of an hour. Darting behind the bullet-hole-riddled frames of rusted prewar wagons. Diving behind piles of rocks a few sizes smaller than he was. Sneaking up behind thin, twisted signposts and closing his eyes so his quarry wouldn’t see him.

The thoughts and feelings running through his mind—while still somewhat confusing and unfamiliar—weren’t unwelcome. The smiles. The giggles. The anticipation. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before.

Glancing up the road, the buck could see the three ponies continuing on their way. Though their earlier laughter had died down, they still smiled from time to time, their banter continuing back and forth. Occasionally the white one would say something that seemed to irritate the red one, at which point the blue one would shake its head and mutter under his breath.

The buck continued to hold his own unnatural smile, lifting a hoof up off the ground as he tilted his head to the side.

Another odd sensation had begun to well up as well. Nervousness. Uncertainty.

The buck had never spoken to another pony before.

Spoken?

The buck raised an eyebrow.

Talking. Words. That was right. Ponies used words to talk to one another.

The buck closed his eyes, trying to remember. A fuzzy white cloud drifted up over his head.

A few moments passed. The cloud remained blank.

The nervous sensation in the buck’s gut grew, his smile wavering.

He couldn’t remember many words off hand. Just the ones that the voice said from time to time. Kill. Eat. Tear. Rip.

The buck shook his head.

No. Those didn’t seem right for the feelings he was feeling now. They didn’t seem to fit.

The buck’s smile wavered further, his ears drooping.

Maybe...maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe it would be best if he left now. Even if he did remember some words, what words what he say? He didn’t know what ponies talked about. What if they didn’t like the words he chose?

The buck pawed at the ground.

If only he had something to say. Something to talk about. Something he could convey with the words he knew.

The buck’s eyes suddenly lit up.

The bear!

Whipping his head to the side, he could see two fuzzy, stuffed legs sticking out of his back pocket, flopping around with his sudden movement. Reaching back, he grabbed the stuffed animal up his teeth, cuddling it against his shoulder with a foreleg.

“Bear bear….”

The buck loved the bear bear.

The buck nodded to himself, his twitchy smile returning.

This was what he needed. Something to break the ice. Once they saw the bear bear, he was sure they wouldn’t be able to help but smile, too.

Glancing ahead, the buck could see the three ponies turn off the main road, branching off down a narrower one that led into the hills on the right. Grabbing the bear bear up in his teeth, the buck started after them, moving a bit more brazenly than he had before.

His eyes were wide with excitement. Maybe...just maybe...

Rounding the turn, the buck picked up his pace. He could overhear the three continuing their conversation, chatting idly as they trotted along.

“—tomorra'. If dey show up, dat is. You got dat, Rowdy?”

“Ugh, fine. You owe me one though, Deuce. Those Reapers give me the creeps.”

“That’s rich, coming from a mare who collects her own hoof clippings.”

“Go fuck a cactus, Burnpile!”

The buck could hear the two stallions laugh, his ears perking up at the sound. The three ponies continued to move forward as he stared at them from behind, the group too fixated on their conversation to notice his presence.

The buck nodded again.

This was his opportunity. The mood felt right.

He took a step forward, adjusting his grip on the stuffed bear in his muzzle.

Twitch. Twitch twitch.

The buck stopped short, his ears shifting back and forth. He could hear something. Faintly. Distantly. Though he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

Twitch twitch.

The buck’s eyes zeroed in on the patch of road in front of the three ponies. Most of the pavement had eroded away, leaving an exposed patch of broken earth. A small mound of displaced dirt and rock sat at the area’s center, a few pebbles shifting along its surface as the group approached.

A flash of electricity darted down the buck’s spine, the bear in his jaws dropping to his hooves.

He’d seen this before. The shifting of earth. The faint rumbling beneath the dirt.

A prickle ran down the buck’s spine.

“Hoof clipper! Hoof clipper!”

“—Oye. Pile. Dat’s—

“—Fuck you, Cinderbrain! At least I don’t get off to the smell of gas canisters—”

A sudden, rocky rumbling cut the mare’s words short—the earth at the hooves of the three ponies exploding upwards in a shower of dirt and debris. The buck could hear a flurry of curses and shouts escape their lips, their heads whipping forward with identical expressions of shock and panic as a segmented, multi-limbed insect with massive claws and a barbed tail erupted from the road beneath them.

“—Fucking—”

“—What the—”

“—Dats a radscorp! Get down!”

The buck was already surging forward—a violent column of heat erupting from the center of his chest as the muscles in his limbs began to twist and warp beneath him. The prickles in his extremities had long started to flare forth.

He was only dimly aware of the continued shouts of panic rising up from the three ponies as he thundered past, his sharpening vision zeroing in on the mass of clacking mandibles and eyes turning to meet him.

He could hear the voice screaming in the back of his mind. Spitting. Growling. Surging forward with more hate and ferocity than usual, having already been denied once before.

KILL!

The buck let loose with a violent roar. His claws tore into the chitinous hide before him. A sharp pain erupted in his side as the creature’s tail whipped forward, piercing deep into his flesh.

The buck roared again and bit down, the world and his vision falling away to red.

***

The buck stirred.

He could feel the cool touch of earth beneath him, stone and rock resting against his stomach and neck. There was a faint sensation of warmth, too—a trickle of it running down the side of his barrel and flank. His mouth tasted like iron.

The buck slowly opened his eyes, frowning with the effort as he did so. His eyelids felt heavy, as if he hadn’t rested in days.

The scene around the buck was blurry. Vague shapes moving back and forth, silhouettes of wagons and rocks taking up part of the frame. He could hear voices, dimly, but his senses hadn’t fully come back to him yet.

The buck blinked.

His body felt numb. Prickly. The same sensation he sometimes felt in his legs if he slept on them wrong. The numbness seemed to be centered around a certain point on his right flank—the place where the faint trickle of warmth seemed to be flowing from.

Where was he, again? He couldn’t remember.

Something about sleeping? Waking up? Following something? Baring his teeth? The memories were as blurry as his vision.

“Shit, I tink he’s wakin’ up.”

“Wait? Already? Shit! We didn’t even get a chance to tie him up, yet!”

“Let’s just torch the fucker, Deuce.”

The buck blinked again, the images around him slowly growing clearer. He could see three blurry outlines standing a few hooves away. The blue blob moved to reach for something at its side, the white blob levitating something into the air as the red one shifted into a defensive stance.

Ponies?

The buck raised an eyebrow.

What were ponies doing here?

He shook his head.

For some reason, he felt like he recognized the three shapes, but he couldn’t remember from where.

The blurry blue pony shook its head in turn.

“Just hold for a sec, Pile. Let’s see what info dis fucker has on ‘im. He’s half dead already—we just shoot ‘im if he starts making any funny moves.”

The buck squinted.

He could see their faces now. Two stallions and a mare. The three stood at the ready, weapons drawn as they trained their sights on him, glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

A flash of recognition sparked across the buck’s mind.

The road! These were the laughter-ponies. The one’s he’d spent all afternoon following.

A weak smile passed over the buck’s lips.

He’d found them. Finally.

He blinked again, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

How had he gotten here, again? He didn’t remember catching up with them. Maybe he had tripped? He did that, sometimes.

Ahead of him, the white stallion waved a hoof dismissively.

“Fuck that. Did you see what he did to that radscorp? That freak took a barb to the side and its already moving. The wound’s not even bleeding anymore!”

“Jus' keep a fuckin’ eye on it.”

The buck shook his head. Now that he was here, what was the next part of the plan? He felt like he'd forgotten something.

The buck’s eyes suddenly widened, head swimming as his eyes darted back and forth. He reached for his muzzle with a shaky hoof.

Where was the bear bear? He was going to show it to them.

Body still numb, the buck craned his neck back and forth, a low rumble rising up past his tingling tongue.

“B….brrr...berrr…berrr…”

“Fuck! It’s saying something.”

“No shit, Rowdy.”

“Fuck off, bucknuts.”

“You fuck off.”

“Oye. Dipshits.”

The buck continued to search with his eyes, a knot tightening in his stomach as the three ponies argued.

The bear bear. His whole plan had been centered around it. Showing it to them. Using his words. Hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles in return.

Cold, empty tendrils began to creep into his chest.

He’d missed his chance.

In front of him, the blue stallion shook his head at the other two ponies, taking another step forward. Glancing down at the buck with his one good eye, he motioned back up the road with a bob of his head.

“Oye. Freak. Where da fuck you come from?”

The buck turned, his eyes meeting the blue earth pony’s. He could see a scowl on the stallion’s lips, his own ears drooping at the sight.

The laughter. The smiles. He’d ruined it. Again.

The buck’s head sunk toward the earth, his eyes closing as he buried his head into the dirt.

With the bear bear gone, there was nopony else. Nopony. Nothing. He could already see the colors in his memories fading. Hear the voices dim. It wouldn’t be long before he’d forgotten everything completely. Became nothing. Lost himself forever.

He could feel his other self in the back of his mind. The voice. The darkness. Watching. Grinning. Waiting patiently for the buck to give himself up once and for all.

The buck nodded dimly.

The voice could do whatever it wanted. He didn’t care anymore. Nothing mattered. He just wanted it to end.

“Oye. Fuckface. You hear me?”

The buck cracked his eye back open.

He could see the blue stallion lean forward, the scowl on its face staring down at him. The other two ponies continued to look on, their eyes still trained on him, their shoulders tense.

The buck blinked, eyeing their weapons. Where he would usually feel tension—anxiousness, aggression—he only felt numb. Empty. Hollow.

His eyes drifted back to the earth in front of him.

It didn’t matter anymore. He was alone. He'd always be alone.

The buck blinked, his eyes shifting in and out of focus. Looking around, he could see a mound of twisted pincers and chitin plates at his side, purplish blood pooled at the carcass's base. The husks of burnt out wagons stared back at him from further on, the dimming light of the gray equestrian skies as bland and colorless as ever.

Nothing pretty. Nothing beautiful. Just gray and drab. Empty and rusted. Endless and dead.

The buck shook his head.

Let it end. Just...let it end.

The buck’s eyes shifted to one last point up the road. He could see a small section of pavement where a blackened signpost had fallen, breaking up the ground beneath it. Debris lay strewn about its side—rocks, prewar flyers, tire rims—all haphazardly strewn about.

His eyes shifted to one of the bits of debris. It was smaller than most of the other pieces. More colorful, too. Fuzzier.

The buck’s eyes widened.

Bear…bear?

The buck blinked.

The small stuffed toy was there, fifty hooves off, resting on the ground where he had dropped it.

Amid the darkness in his mind, a memory drifted forth. A voice. Warm. Comforting. Familiar.

“Smile, Happy.”

A small flame flickered to life in the buck’s chest. Weak. Slight. But still a point of light amid the darkness.

Nodding slowly, the buck smiled, imitating the same look he’d worn during his search.

Turning back to the three ponies, he could see them continue to stare, confusion lighting their faces at his expression.

Uncertainty clutched at his chest, threatening to snuff the small flame out.

Smile.

The buck held their gazes.

A minute passed. Two. The buck continued to hold his uncertain smile. Waiting.

Another minute passed. The three ponies before him exchanged a glance.

The mare’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Is he just stupid, or something?”

“Fuck if I know. Maybe the radscorp venom went to his head.”

“Oh, you a doctor, now, Burnpile?”

“Fuck you, Rowdy.”

“Fuck you, Burnpile!”

“For da love a’ Luna…”

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, the three scowls on the ponies’ faces shifting into various looks of smugness, exasperation, and anger as their normal flow of conversation resumed.

The buck shifted his gaze back and forth at the sight.

The laughter and smiles on the three ponies' faces hadn’t returned, but the fact that they’d went back to normal... It seemed like progress.

The small flame in the buck’s chest began to burn brighter, his awkward smile perking up.

Maybe there was still a chance. Maybe this wasn’t over.

His eyes widened again.

The bear!

The buck whipped his head back up the road, his vision narrowing in on the small bump of fur and fluff.

He could still show it to them. It was right there. So close.

A flush of adrenaline rushed through the buck’s limbs. He was still half-numb, but he could move. Stumbling to his hooves, he took off at an awkward half-gallop in the bear’s direction, the voices of the three ponies suddenly flaring up in confusion at his sudden movement.

“Oye! Sit da fuck back down!”

“Shit! He’s getting up!”

“How the fuck is he running around already?”

“Heh...heh heh...heh…”

An awkward laugh escaped the buck’s lips, his movements stiff and awkward as his limbs refused to fully cooperate. He could hear the three ponies shifting around behind him, the click of weapons echoing out as they shouted back and forth.

“Stupid buck. Deuce, what do we do?”

“Fuck it. I’m gonna torch him.”

“Fuck. Not yet. Hold. He ain’t gettin’ far.”

“Screw that, Deuce. Who the fuck died and made you chief?”

Reaching the side of the signpost, the buck leaned forward, picking up the stuffed animal in his jaws. The flame in his chest began to burn brighter yet, excitement lighting his clumsy limbs.

The bear bear. He had it. This could work. This could work.

Whipping his head around, the buck stumbled back toward the three, the two stallions arguing back and forth as the mare barked at the two of them from the side. The three of them stopped suddenly as he approached, confusion once again lighting their faces as he stopped a few hooves away.

Regarding the three with a nod, the buck dropped onto his haunches, dropping the bear at his hooves before them. Looking back at the three confused faces staring at his own, he shook his head, taking a deep breath.

His throat tensed, vibrating as he focused on shaping the sounds as clearly as he could.

“B…b…brrr...bearrr. Bear. Bear bear.”

The buck looked up expectantly. Anxiously.

Despite the excitement. Despite the flame. There was still a nervousness in his chest. An uncertainty.

A moment passed.

The three ponies, weapons still drawn, exchanged another glance.

A burst of laughter erupted from their mouths a moment later.

“—the fuck! Is he an idiot?”

“—is this stupid buck high? Does he think we’re his herd or something?”

“—fuckin’ hell. Da fucker’s too dumb to even run away.”

The buck’s eyes widened, the excitement in his chest shooting across his body.

They were laughing! Smiling! At him! At his words!

“Heh...heh heh...heh…”

Low chuckles began to rumble from his own throat, the awkward gurgles sending the three ponies before him into even deeper fits of laughter.

“—is that supposed to be a laugh?”

“—what a creepy buck!”

The buck smiled, nodding his head up and down.

It was working! It was working!

Wiping the tears from his eye, the blue stallion was the first to recover, pointing a hoof toward the buck and the mangled carcass beside him.

“Fuckin’ a’, dough. You a fuckin’ junkie or sometin’? I ain’t never seen chems do sometin’ like dat back dere.”

The buck felt another surge of energy leap through his chest. He continued to nod, the pony’s words falling on deaf ears.

The white stallion let out a wicked cackle from behind.

“You're wasting your time, Deuce! The buck probably fried his brain with whatever he’s been taking! We should see if he has any more on him!”

The red mare shook her head, grinning a she raised a hoof in the buck’s direction.

“I doubt it. I don’t even see any saddlebags on him. Dumb buck has probably been tripping for days.”

The three ponies took a few steps forward, their earlier argument forgotten. Though the three continued to keep their weapons trained in the buck’s general direction, the tension in their frames had faded somewhat.

The blue stallion turned back to face the buck again, nodding back toward the road they'd come down.

“You a raider? Which clan you with?”

The buck nodded. The stallion sighed.

“Clan? Outfit? You a merc? A scav?”

The buck’s smile grew.

This conversation was going so well!

The one-eyed stallion sighed again, facehoofing as the other two ponies slapped their hooves against their flanks in laughter.

“Fuckin'—name? You gotta name at least? Name? Name?”

Name?

The buck blinked.

The stallion seemed to want something from him, but he couldn’t understand what. His memory of words was still cloudy. Hazy. Spotty at best.

The buck shook his head, his smile reasserting itself.

It didn’t matter if he couldn’t understand. The ponies here were talking to him! Laughing with him! Smiling with him!

Even if he couldn’t understand their words. Their intentions. They were here. Together. He wasn’t alone.

Faint echoes filled the buck’s mind. Faded memories of a past life. Smiles. Faces. Laughter. Words. One word in particular. A word that seemed to fit the feeling he was feeling now.

“...Happy…”

The blue stallion raised an eyebrow. Beside him, the white stallion snorted, waving a hoof toward the buck.

“Ha! ‘Happy’—that’s perfect! Look at the smile on that moron’s face.”

Happy.

The buck’s eyes widened.

Happy. Happy. That was it. That was the word. That was...him. He remembered. He was Happy. Happy was him. And being Happy made him...happy.

Smile, Happy.

Happy smiled, his grin stretching across his face in earnest. Limbs still numb, he rose to his hooves, a clumsy poing! poing! echoing around him as he began to prance and giggle to himself.

“Happy! Happy! Happy happy! Happy Happy happy!”

The three ponies let lose with another round of smirks and laughter, pointing their hooves in Happy’s direction as he stumbled back and forth on numb hooves.

Everything about Happy’s body felt light. Airy. Weightless.

These ponies. They liked him. They laughed at him. They smiled at him. Being together with them like this, it was almost like they were all—

Happy’s eyes widened.

Friends.

A giggle escaped the buck's lips.

Friends! Friends! Happy had friends!

Happy blinked, ears perking up in confusion as his vision began to cloud over.

Had it started raining? He didn’t see any storms-clouds, but the corners of his eyes, for some reason, still felt wet.

The laughter of the ponies before him—raiders, as they seemed to call themselves—finally died down, the three lowering their weapons to their sides. Happy watched as they began to talk again, nodding back in his direction as they spoke.

“Fuck this buck’s a dumbass. It’s like he thinks he’s one of us.”

“Ha! He’s a fucking riot! I still say we torch him, but maybe after we play around with him a while. If he could to that to a radscorp, I’d like to see how he holds up against a hellhound.”

The blue stallion paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“Ya know, some of da settlements out West have been hirin’ on more mercs lately. Tradin’ & whatnot. Dem fuckers got good gear on ‘em if you can wear ‘em down. A big clan can usually take out a wagon no problem, but findin’ food for dat many mouths out dat way is a bitch.”

The stallion glanced over his shoulder, motioning in Happy’s direction.

“Dumb bag of teeth like dat one could be a good distraction for us, dough. Send ‘im in. Clean up what’s left when dey got deir backs turned.”

The two other ponies exchanged a glance, grins appearing on each of their faces.

“—Seems he might be useful for something after all.”

“—I wonder if they’ve got any mercs with flamer fuel on ‘em. Or maybe one of those machetes you can light on fire.”

Happy continued to nod. He wasn’t sure what they were saying, but the three ponies seemed to be talking about him. The fact they were doing so with smiles on their faces...it was all he could do to avoid breaking out in another fit of giggles.

The red mare glanced in Happy's direction, waving a hoof at him as she nodded to the other two.

“What kind of cutie mark is that for a junkie scav though? Fucking weird if you ask me.”

Happy tilted his head, his gaze following that of the red mare’s down to his flank. Eyes widening in realization, he leaned forward, pulling the torn fabric beneath his barding back into place, covering the patch of fur than had been exposed during the earlier struggle.

His ears drooped down, a faint discomfort filling his chest. He averted his gaze, the excitement in his chest dimming for a moment.

The white stallion smirked.

“Couldn’t be any stupider than having a loudspeaker strapped to your ass.”

“Fuck you, Gas-breath!”

“Ha! Right back at you, Hoof Clipper!”

Happy exhaled, a faint sense of relief washing over him as he looked back at the other three ponies.

It was strange hearing lively conversation like this in the background. Different from the quiet winds of the wastes or the distant sounds of feral roars and gunfire. Everything seemed more colorful—more vibrant—than it was when he was alone.

Happy nodded to himself.

With friends like these, he could keep moving. Even if other ponies didn’t smile back the same way they did. Even if the voice took over from time to time.

The buck nodded as he looked over the three once more.

With friends like these, he could be happy again. And being happy...

The buck smiled.

...and being Happy was what suited him best.

*****